Andrea, who is from New York, a single mother of six and has the energy of several rowdy kids, is bracing herself for a difficult few months ahead. One question she’ll need to resolve is what to do with the silver-and- gold bracelet. She’s thinking that after the 30 days of mourning, maybe the girls can give it to Libby’s daughter in a special ceremony at Shalva. She’s not sure.
She tells me that I just barely missed seeing Libby when I visited Shalva — apparently, she arrived a few minutes after I left.
The truth is, it doesn’t really matter whether I met Libby Goren or not. It doesn’t matter whether any of us ever met any of the victims.
There’s something about moments of intense tragedy that shocks us into intimacy. The losses feel like personal losses. The tragedy may be 8,000 miles away, and we may be in Pico-Robertson or Paris or Montreal or Argentina, but we feel like the victims are right next to us — that we know them.
In my case, I got to know a little more about Elizabeth “Libby” Goren-Friedman just by seeing the faces on those young girls at Shalva whom she treated like her own.
Those same young girls who are probably wondering right now why she hasn’t shown up this week.
